


it's safer there, i know there's still a war outside

by davenpitts



Series: you're mucking off, but i will live for you, my selfless love [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/M, I forgot how to tag lol, Sexual Content, Spoilers, You've been warned, jeankasa - Freeform, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davenpitts/pseuds/davenpitts
Summary: “I know we put our lives on the line every day, but tomorrow’s—”“Different.” He finished for her. “W-we—” Turns out accepting that you might die tomorrow was infinitely harder when the woman you’ve loved since you were twelve was currently pressed against your chest. “We might die tomorrow.”“I want my last night to be special.” Now she looked up at him. Her eyes were even darker in the moonlight. Silver orbs in an sea of white. “I want to spend it with you.”If he wasn’t fully awake before, he certainly was now. “With me? Why not Armin, or Connie, or—”“Or Eren?” Now Mikasa was the one finishing his sentences. “He’s not here. And even if he was…” She brought her face to his. “I’d still want to spend my last night alive with you.”Jean and Mikasa spend the night before The Rumbling together. Major spoilers ahead.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Series: you're mucking off, but i will live for you, my selfless love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138451
Comments: 25
Kudos: 81





	it's safer there, i know there's still a war outside

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you are all doing well all things considered! Anyway, I'm currently brainrotting over AoT for the 3rd time in 7 years because the series is ending soon (*sobs*) so why not? That being said, this will probably be the last fic I write for the fandom :( Regardless of how the hell this godforesaken series ends, I'm eternally grateful for the friends I've made through this fandom & through Jeankasa (y'all know who you are)! Seriously, you guys are the best! Also, if for some reason you've missed it, there's MAJOR spoilers for the manga so read at your own risk!  
> Fic title comes from "Self Care" by Mac Miller!

_Hnnnnrk._

_Hnnnnnnnrk._

_Hnnnnnnnnnnn—_

Jean slapped his pillow over his ears in hopes that it’d block out Connie and Armin’s combined, almost synchronous, snoring.

Not even five seconds later, he heard a somewhat muffled _hnnnnnnnrk._

Exasperated and exhausted, Jean hurled the pillow off his bed and curled into a fetal position, shoving his index fingers into his ears.

How his friends could sleep so soundly during what was potentially—no, _definitely_ —the last night of their lives was beyond him. Jean supposed they had fallen asleep every night for the past four years knowing they could die the next day. And many did: Marco, Erwin, Sasha…

Except tomorrow was different. Tomorrow The Rumbling would commence, and although Eren had promised they’d be safe, they could very well die protecting everyone else. The fact that Annie, Gabi, and Falco wouldn’t be assisting them further increased their odds of being eaten, trampled, or falling to their deaths. Jean could understand their reluctance to take any more lives. He’d been in the killing business for nearly half a decade, and almost every time he closed his eyes he saw the lifeless faces of the people he’d killed, blood gushing from wounds he’d inflicted himself. He couldn’t even begin to imagine being taught to kill at an age even younger than fifteen, being told his whole life that the people who lived inside the walls were devils deserving of death.

Still, it’d be nice to have two Titan shifters and one Warrior candidate to help them stop Eren and his infinite army of Titans from destroying most of humanity.

Perhaps the reason Armin and Connie could sleep so soundly was because they hadn’t watched Floch kill a man right in front of them the other day, and without so much as flinching, no less. As irritating as the sound of Armin and Connie’s snoring was, it was melodic compared to that of the gunshot, or that of the dull thud of the Anti-Marleyan Volunteer’s corpse hitting the floor.

Or what Floch had said to Jean afterwards.

_So go back to being the old Jean. That annoying, irresponsible, conceited bastard._

Little did Floch know that that Jean had died years ago.

Or had he?

Jean quietly rolled out of bed and left the room he shared with Armin and Connie, leaving the door slightly ajar. If lying in bed wouldn’t calm his thoughts, maybe taking a stroll would.

He paused outside the girls’ room and pressed his ear against the door, listening for the sound of Mikasa’s soft, steady breathing if she was asleep, the rustling of her bedsheets if she was awake.

Hearing neither, he turned his back to the door and leaned against it slightly. He could die tomorrow, and Mikasa would never know how he truly felt about her, how over the years his feelings for her had evolved from a schoolboy crush into adoration. 

Assuming she didn’t die first.

Jean was about to continue walking when behind him, the door creaked open and he fell backwards, closing his eyes to brace for impact. A pair of slender yet strong arms circled his waist, catching him. His savior then clapped a cold, pale hand over his mouth. “Scream and I drop you.”

Jean opened his eyes to find Mikasa staring down at him. They were so close that he could see bags beneath her eyes. Before he could study her face any further, she lifted him upright as if he weighed nothing at all.

“How long were you standing out there?” Mikasa asked. Her raven black hair was disheveled from hours of tossing and turning, her milk white nightshirt slightly wrinkled. Yet she was just as beautiful as the night he had met her, seven years ago.

“Not long.” He admitted. “How long were you standing in here?” There was no way she could’ve heard him from across the room, where her bed lay. She must’ve been waiting by the door this whole time.

Waiting for someone.

“I wasn’t entirely standing.” She said, nodding towards a wooden chair, obscured in darkness. Then: “Jean, I’m scared.”

When Jean woke up this morning, he hadn’t expected his day to end with him and Mikasa alone together, nor with her admitting to him that she, of all people, was scared. “Mikasa Ackerman? Scared?”

“I’m serious.”

Jean wanted to whack himself upside the head with one of Armin’s massive encyclopedias. _Duh._ Of course she was serious. It wasn’t in Mikasa’s nature to joke.

He put his hand on her shoulder, excepting her to flinch at his touch. Run away from him as if he were a disease-ridden leper.

She did neither.

“I’m scared, too.” He said.

Mikasa leaned into his chest. Jean awkwardly moved his hand from her shoulder to the small of her back. Still she didn’t show any indication that she was uncomfortable with him touching her.

“I know we put our lives on the line every day, but tomorrow’s—”

“Different.” He finished for her. “W-we—” Turns out accepting that you might die tomorrow was infinitely harder when the woman you’ve loved since you were twelve was currently pressed against your chest. “We might die tomorrow.”

“I want my last night to be special.” Now she looked up at him. Her eyes were even darker in the moonlight. Silver orbs in an sea of white. “I want to spend it with you.”

If he wasn’t fully awake before, he certainly was now. “With me? Why not Armin, or Connie, or—”

“Or Eren?” Now Mikasa was the one finishing his sentences. “He’s not here. And even if he was…” She brought her face to his. “I’d still want to spend my last night alive with you.”

All Jean could manage was a shaky “oh”.

“As for Armin and Connie, I sprinkled some lavender into their teabags at dinner. Helps promote a restful sleep.”

“That…explains a lot.” Come to think of it, she did smell faintly of the bright purple herb. It was a welcome change from their typical musk of blood and sweat, a scent they were uncomfortably familiar with by now. “So, uh, what did you wanna do?” As if they were children at a sleepover discussing which game they should play next, not adults hours away from dying.

It suddenly dawned on him that Mikasa was possibly just as inexperienced as he was. While she had probably received innocent kisses on the cheek from Eren and Armin as a child (an image Jean tried to repress from his mind), their occupation as soldiers left them little time for themselves and none at all for romance. She was probably waiting for him to take the initiative.

As desperately as Jean wanted to kiss her like it was the last thing he’d ever do (because it likely would be), he wanted her to be the one to do it. Wanted her to prove to him that her feelings for him were as genuine as his were for her.

“Do you think I’ve changed?” He suddenly asked.

He didn’t need to elaborate; Mikasa had been right beside him when Floch had reminded Jean of his younger, worse self.

“Floch is gone." She snapped, stepping out of his embrace, and Jean flinched at both the sudden harshness in her voice and the realization that Floch was truly, indisputably, gone. He had died in Jean's arms; he had felt Floch's spirit exit his body like water from a cracked glass.

Like it was nothing.

Mikasa lowered her head. "Jean, it's okay if you...hate me for killing him. I understand if you do."

It took Jean a moment to process what she was saying, then another to formulate a response. "You did what you had to do. If you hadn't, we probably wouldn't even be here right now." He lifted her chin upwards with his thumb. "Besides, I could never hate you."

She smiled and touched his wrist gingerly. "I could never hate you, either." 

It was then that she stumbled forward and kissed him with just as little elegance. The shock of being kissed by Mikasa Ackerman and the sheer force with which she had done so sent Jean toppling ass-first onto the chair and her into his lap. Feeling his cock quickly harden under her hand, he carried her towards her bed, lowering her onto it gently. He untied the drawstring of his sleep pants, stepping out of them as they pooled around his ankles. Jean joined Mikasa in the bed, kneeling between her legs. He reached a hand towards her shirt, then, realizing he was being much too eager, withdrew it.

“Um…may I?” Jean asked, motioning to her nightshirt.

Mikasa nodded, and he proceeded to unbutton her shirt. His heart clenched at the sight of the tattoo on her wrist, which was in the shape of an “A” and etched in ink as black as her hair. Jean couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain she must’ve felt when she received the tattoo as a child.

“Receiving that tattoo was my first experience with pain.” Mikasa said, reading his mind. “First of many.”

Jean raised her wrist to his lips and kissed the tattoo. His mouth lingered there for a moment before he lowered her wrist and discarded her undershirt. It didn't take her long to notice he was staring at her breasts, which were as paper pale as the rest of her skin. “You can touch them.”

Jean squeezed her left breast gingerly; Mikasa hummed in response. He bent down to circle her swollen, beige nipples with his tongue. She writhed beneath him soundlessly.

He waited until she was still again to loosen the drawstring of her pants, pulling these and her panties down her toned legs. He took a minute to admire her porcelain skin, the sharp curves of her sinewy body and the various scars that marred it. “You’re beautiful.” He breathed.

Mikasa averted her eyes at this, although Jean had glimpsed a slight twinkle in them. “Thank you.” It was the same thing she said when he’d complimented her hair all those years ago, and the realization evoked nostalgia in him.

Mikasa sat up to unbutton Jean’s shirt and yank down his boxers. She, too, took a moment to study Jean’s body, tracing his own scars with a fingernail. “You’re the only one who’s ever called me that, you know.” 

“Oh.” Jean wasn’t sure if he should feel honored that no other person but him had called her beautiful or shocked that no one had beaten him to it first. He settled for the latter. “Really?”

“Yes, so thank you. Again.”

He kissed her this time, leaning into her until her back was pressed against the mattress. She swiftly rolled out from beneath him and flipped him onto his back, eliciting a startled squeak from his mouth.

Now straddling him, she positioned herself onto Jean’s cock tortuously slow.

“Does it hurt?” He asked when she winced. He didn’t dare move, fearing that if he moved so much as a muscle, he’d hurt her.

She lowered herself onto it the rest of the way. “A little.” She conceded, shifting her hips a little. “But I’ve been through worse, remember?”

“We both have.” In terms of who’d endured more emotional pain, Mikasa was the clear winner. As far as Jean knew, his mother was still alive, hopefully. But the psychical pain they’d experienced was about the same.

What the hell was he doing, thinking about pain at a time like this?

Jean’s hands gripped Mikasa’s waist, steadying her as he lifted his hips slightly. She sighed at the foreign sensation, which prompted Jean to lift his hips higher, and quicker. It wasn’t long before he was rapidly jerking his hips against hers, the bed creaking beneath them in protest.

It wasn’t until Jean felt his midsection grow impossibly hot that he wished he’d taken a slower, gentler approach—although he’d been told that first times were embarrassingly brief, there was a strong chance that theirs would also be their last.

And so Jean slowed the pace and mentally replaced the sound of Mikasa’s moans with that of gunshots, the image of her flushed cheeks with that of a bloody corpse, the feeling of her bare skin slapping against his with that of a bullet piercing his flesh.

“Jean.”

“Jean.”

“ _Jean.”_

The sound of his name coming from Mikasa’s mouth forced Jean out of his trance. At some point he must’ve stopped thrusting into her, because instead of riding him, she was hovering over him, his cock still buried inside her and her bangs falling into her face. “Focus on me, not on fighting.”

Jean brushed the hair out of her eyes. Part of him couldn’t believe he’d gone this long without touching her hair. He twirled a few strands of it around his finger and unraveled it; its softness contrasted with the hardness of her body. “How did you know I was thinking about fighting?"

“You had a look in your eyes.” She pushed his own bangs aside, which he’d been meaning to outgrow until just now. He’d let them grow longer than hers if it meant she’d brush them back again. “I don’t care if you don’t last long; we have all night.”

Jean propped one forearm firmly on the bed, and Mikasa gasped as he placed the other on the small of her back and pulled her closer. “Aw, I wanted to actually get some sleep tonight.”

Mikasa smiled for the second time. He hadn't seen her smile in months, and yet somehow he'd made her smile not once, but twice. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

He kissed her neck, not caring if he left a bruise or two on her skin. Tomorrow the others would be too busy trying not to die to notice, anyway. “You got me there.”

Maintaining a steady rhythm, he pushed into and out of her slow and deep, wanting her to feel every millimeter of him. She clutched his shoulders for support all the while, her silky hair tickling his ear.

“F—faster.” She breathed after several minutes of this.

Jean slammed into her, both hands gripping her backside now. “Ah—Jean.” She moaned, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and no doubt tattooing his skin with pink crescents.

The sound of his name falling from her lips and oozing with escasty was all it took for Jean’s legs to begin trembling. Mikasa came first; her core clenched and unclenched around him. Jean grit his teeth and continued to thrust into her violently until he, too, reached his high, spilling his seed inside her with a groan. He crumpled onto the mattress and Mikasa fell with him, landing face-first on a pillow.

Panting heavily, Jean flipped her over so that they were facing each other, then wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of his hand. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, which Jean felt grow instantly moist. Was she still sweating?

He pulled away slightly to discover that she was crying.

_Shit, you really fucked up now, Kirstein…_

“Did I hurt you? Shit, I shouldn’t have been so rough towards the end, I’m sorry.” Jean patted her tousled hair awkwardly, wishing he was more experienced with this sort of thing.

Mikasa withdrew her face from Jean’s neck. “It’s not that. I enjoyed it. It felt—nice.” Mikasa sniffled. “It’s just—what are we even fighting for, Jean?” He had never heard anyone sound so exhausted, so defeated.

He said nothing for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “For peace. So our children—” _Fuck._ “Uh, so our respective children from spouses who aren’t us and their children can live peaceful, happy lives.”

Mikasa moved so that her back was facing Jean’s chest. “I wouldn’t mind having a family with you, Jean. Someday, when this is all over.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “R-really?”

“Mmhm.” She murmured.

“Heh, me too. You know…” _Kirstein, don’t you dare tell her that just the other night you fantasized about a future in which she was your wife and the mother to your child._ But it was as if he was possessed—there was no stopping the words that poured from his mouth like an overflowing faucet. “The other night, right before we met with Hange, I was…conflicted over whether to stop Eren or let him wipe out humanity. It…wasn’t my finest hour. Anyway, what convinced me to leave my room and decide to stop Eren was the possibility of a peaceful future.

“I imagined we were married and had a child, and that we lived in the nicest home money can buy. I was sitting outside on the balcony drinking the finest liquor, and below me the streets weren’t littered with corpses, but instead filled with people shopping at the market or walking with their families. They were laughing and smiling, as if they’d never known a world with war. They were happy. _We_ were happy.”

“Boy or girl?”

Jean hadn’t actually given much thought to their hypothetical baby’s gender. Most men dreamed of having a son, but not Jean—he’d love his child regardless of its sex. So long as it was born into a peaceful world. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“Girl, then.” Mikasa murmured.

“Girl sounds nice.” Jean agreed. Now that he thought about it, he would rather have a girl than a boy—that way he’d have two beautiful women to cherish.

“What also convinced me to go through with stopping Eren was our fallen comrades. They’d never forgive me if I sat on my ass and did nothing while Eren eradicates all life outside the walls.” He’d probably killed the mood by now, but Jean no longer cared. He’d die a happy man tomorrow regardless.

“We have to stop Eren.” Mikasa stated, definitively and plainly; the statement lingered in the air like an unpleasant odor.

Jean said nothing in response to this. What was he supposed to say? Definitely not “we will,” because they both knew that their odds of prevailing were exceedingly slim. And certainly not the opposite either, because what good would admitting defeat do?

Jean was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, but he forced himself to stay awake a little longer and wait for Mikasa to succumb first. When her faint snores confirmed that yes, she was asleep, Jean slipped out of the bed and redressed himself quietly. He pulled the bedsheets up to her neck before he left, returning to his own room and falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

“You think we can still win this?” Reiner gasped. Both his and Jean’s vertical maneuvering gear was busted, they were dangling hundreds of feet above the ground from the Founding Titan’s ribcage, and another Titan was stretching its enormous hand towards Reiner and eyeing them hungrily.

In other words, it was the end of the line.

“No.” Jean conceded. No use being optimistic now. “But at least…we ought to struggle until they manage to kill us, right? The Survey Corps just doesn’t know when to give up, and that’s who we are.”

The arm Reiner was clinging to began to tremble; the blonde was by no means a light person. Jean vaguely heard Levi yell Connie’s name amongst all the rumbling. _At least The Rumbling lives up to its name,_ he thought. Not bad, as far as last thoughts go.

Just then, Mikasa swooped in and effortlessly sliced the nape of the Titan’s neck. What happened next was a blur: there was more yelling, this time from Mikasa, Connie, and…was that Annie’s voice?

“Grab on!”

Yep. Definitely Annie’s voice.

Jean unfastened his vertical maneuvering gear, and he and Reiner fell onto the back of a giant...bird?

No, a Titan. A flying Titan. Judging by its mane of dirty blonde hair and the fact that it was being steered by Gabi, it had to be Falco’s.

“…I had to come.” Annie said. Jean looked to his left, to his right. Everyone was here. Everyone except Armin, who was…

No. Jean didn’t want to think about that right now. They were okay.

They were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope 2021 treats you well!


End file.
